


The lives we lived (were only golden plated)

by tardisandjam



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post-Finale, grant gets a dog, okay he gets jemma a dog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-03 00:06:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4079059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tardisandjam/pseuds/tardisandjam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Color, unlike emotion, is vivid all the time, beautiful shades and pigments."</p><p>How color and emotion intertwine in a significant way post!rock for Jemma Simmons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The lives we lived (were only golden plated)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for WSSummer week two, for the prompt 'color'.
> 
> To be completely honest, I'm not sure what the hell happened with this fic. I don't. It took on a life of its own and went wild. I don't even know how the ending of this came about??? It just??? WHATEVER. I wanted to write post!rock fic, since I've been RPing it so much, and this is the result.
> 
> Title comes from Golden by Fall Out Boy, which surprises no one.

There is so much about human life to enjoy, she discovers.

There’s food. Sweet and salty and tangy and delicious, warm and cool, chewy and crunchy. She takes a sort of delight in trying everything served up at meal times, always curious about what she’ll be able to experience next. She thinks her favorite might be spaghetti. 

There’s music. On one of the first days of her existence, she hears something lovely coming from the gym. She follows it to the doorway, hovering there as she takes it in. Later she discovers her phone is packed full of music. She spends an entire day lying in bed, just letting the beautiful noises overtake her. She can’t pick a favorite here- she listens to everything she can get her hands on.

There’s emotion, too. That’s been the hardest one for her to grasp. She gets brief, bright flashes of some of them. When she sees Skye sometimes, she feels a sharp stab of disgust. She wonders if it’s to do with the fact that Skye is Inhuman, because she remembers being close to her once. When Fitz takes her hand and smiles at her, she feels a certain amount of fondness, but nothing like the love she knows he has for her. She knows that even before the bonding, she couldn’t have truly reciprocated that feeling. And now, well.... The emotion of love seems lost to her. 

Still. She thinks one of her favorite things about life is color. Before the bonding, before the rock had gained a form and Jemma had been her own person, the rock had known nothing but cold and loneliness. Color, unlike emotion, is vivid all the time, beautiful shades and pigments. She spends the first day of her new life staring at her closet, at the colors in the threads of her clothes. She changes day to day. One day her favorite is green, the next day pink, another day blue. 

The problem is, she lives in the Playground.

It’s dark and drab and just so  _gray_. She didn’t think she could get sick of a color, but the thought of another gray, concrete day sends a pang of sadness straight through her chest. It makes her ache that her other body is a dark shade of gray, almost black.

To offset it, she wears bright colors. Greens, blues, reds, yellows, pinks. Even on tactical missions, she paints her lips a bright red to break the black. Coulson gives her grief about it, but he allows the color. 

It’s on one of these missions that she gets separated. Her comm is knocked out when she slips down the stairs, pain blooming in her sides and head. There’s yelling upstairs- gunshots-

And then there’s a hand in front of her face. She follows the arm with her eyes up to a head.

It’s Ward.

She knows that she should hate him. She knows that she should recoil and try to get away. But she’s caught in his eyes. They’re brown, which by all accounts should be a normal color, but they’re such a rich, deep brown, full of secrets and promises and stories untold. She wants to know them- really wants to. 

She’s never felt the need, the want to delve deeper until now. She can only get that if she’s near him. And to be near him, she knows what she needs to do. 

She takes his hand and gets up, swaying a bit on her feet. She hears him give a soft warning before the dizziness gets to her and she slumps against him. 

\----

She wakes up in a soft bed, softer than what she’s used to. The beds at the Playground are comfortable enough, but they make her hurt after too long. There’s no pain now. Someone’s put her in pajamas, warm, fuzzy things. 

She moves to sit up slowly, her head still spinning. There’s color everywhere- a watercolor on the wall, pale blue bed sheets, cream painted walls. It’s so beautiful. 

It takes her a moment to realize that the pajamas she’s wearing are hers. Her clothes from the Playground are hung neatly in the nearby closet, her books and other things stacked neatly on a pale wooden desk next to a computer. Even the picture she had of the original team during game night is on one of the bed stands. 

The white door creaks open, drawing her attention. 

Ward steps inside with a tray, flashing her a smile. “You’re awake. I was worried. You were out for a day and a half.” He places the food down on the bedside table, pulling the desk chair to the side of the bed. “Eat up. You need it.”

She examines the food for a moment before brightening somewhat- there’s some fruit and an omelet, and a glass of orange juice. She’s grown quite fond of eggs and orange juice. She ends up eating it all, Ward’s eyes on her the whole time. He leans forward the moment she finishes, and she’s lost in the lovely brown depths again, but this time she manages to look away. 

“So. I bet you’re wondering why you’re here.” He gives her a smile, but there’s something she can’t put her finger on lurking underneath the surface. “I can’t let you go back to Coulson. You know that.” His hand rests comfortably over her thigh. Though there’s two blankets and her pajamas, it still feels like it’s burning its warmth directly into her flesh. “I’ve got cameras and people in the Playground. I saw what happened to you.”

The last sentence sends a slight quiver of surprise through her, and it must show on her face, because he simply chuckles. 

“I won’t hurt you, Simmons. As long as you give me no reason to.” 

\----

He’s much nicer to her than she would have reason to expect. Once she’s recovered, he lets her have free reign of the cabin he’s brought her to. She feels freer here, more than she had in the Playground. 

Three days into her time there, Grant (and he’s insisted that she call him such) says he has a surprise for her. He takes her hand (and his flesh is so warm, and it wakes up emotions inside her she’d never known) and leads her outside. It’s the first time she’s been in the open air since the mission. 

Just to the side of the porch is a small garden, blooming red and yellow and pink and white and orange and blue with flowers. It’s a brilliant rainbow of color, right there in her front yard. 

“They’re for you. I know you won’t have too much to do here.”

She smiles up at him, and a truly genuine one at that. “Thank you.” She lets go of his hand to examine her garden, and almost misses the sweet look on his face. 

But she doesn’t. 

\----

He visits her erratically. Sometimes he stays only for a day, other times he manages a week with her. He tries to help her with emotions, after she reveals to him that it’s something she struggles with. They’ll sit together, sometimes on the couch or on the porch, and he’ll say things to her, trying to provoke a reaction, depending on which emotion they focus on.

Fear is talk of heights, of the Chitauri virus, of falling through open air and facing death. Hours pass. When she finally bursts into tears at the mention of the pod, he pulls her into his side and runs his fingers through her hair, apologizing and trying to soothe her. She makes him stay with her on the couch that night, grief and fear keeping her awake and prone to tears in his arms.

He brings her a deep navy scarf with white designs and fringes the next time as an apology. 

Happiness is another one he tries. He reminds her of her achievements, but they’re dulled by the memory of Fitz. He tries her family next only to find that it was a sore spot for her, and finds himself locked out of her room. He doesn’t even get to say goodbye.

This time he brings her back paper and paintbrushes and watercolors, so that maybe she can find a way to express herself and her emotions. 

They both agree to skip anger. He doesn’t want to lose the progress he’s made, and she doesn’t want to lose him. 

\----

She goes a month and a half without him. It’s the longest she’s been alone since she’d found herself here- often he’d disappear for a week, maybe two. Six weeks is a record, and not one that she particularly likes. The house feels too big without him, too empty. 

She passes her days messing with the watercolors- she tries to paint her garden. It’s a passable enough representation, but there’s something missing from it. She thinks she knows what it is. 

Passion. There’s no heart in her art, no soul. She thinks it’s because she lacks that emotion, that she lacks a soul. Maybe before she had one, but it surely couldn’t have survived the bonding. Not much of her did.

\----

He comes back with another gift- well, two. 

The first one he carries in a chestnut wicker basket, a pretty pale pink bow tied around it. Grant looks immensely proud of himself the moment she opens the top and a tiny golden retriever pops her little head out and yips excitedly. 

“I thought you’d like some company while I was gone,” he says as she lifts the pup into her arms. “Her name’s Marie. You know, like Madame Curie? I thought you would’ve appreciated that.”

She lets Marie burrow into her, smiling. “She is adorable. Thank you.” She buries her face in the pup’s fur, inhaling the smell of clean dog. “I’ll take good care of her.” 

He puts the basket aside. “I made sure to bring everything you’d need for her. But there’s something else.” He holds up another case, larger than the wicker basket, filled with a moving liquid- she gasps. She can’t help it. She puts Marie down on the floor and takes the case.

“How did you- it was heavily guarded-”

Grant smiles at her. “I knew you’d never feel complete until you had your other half. So I took a team, got on, and got it out. That’s why I was gone for so long.” He hesitates for a half second before moving to wrap an arm around her waist. “I won’t leave you alone like that again, I promise.” 

\----

He keeps his promise. He never leaves for more than two weeks at a time. She always asks him to bring back something colorful to add to their (and it is their, not just hers) home. 

The first time he’s gone for three days. He brings her back a skirt, pink and white threads twining through a rich purple fabric. She wears it when she takes Marie on hikes, twirling through the trees. 

Another time it’s a week he’s away. This time he brings back a beautiful woven collar for Marie, white and blue and purple braided together. For her he finds a shawl, black as night with embroidered red roses. When he leaves again, she sits on the porch every night with it wrapped around her shoulders. It doesn’t do much to ward off the chill, but she pretends he’s there.

The next time he’s gone it’s only two days, but he comes back with a trunk full of gifts. He looks apologetic because he misses her birthday, and he hadn’t meant to, and would she forgive him? She admits to him that she’s not sure what forgiveness feels like, but that she gave it to him the first time she cried. 

He brings her more plants for their garden, more watercolors, things in so many vibrant colors.

She starts to think that her favorite part of human life might be him.

\----

They start working on emotions again.

Anger is talk of his betrayal, of failures. She ends up in tears again and they both decide that it’s an emotion she can deal with when it happens.

Regret ends with him needing to sleep away from her, for the first time in months. He feels dirty and doesn’t want that near her, near the pure soul that she is. 

He tries happiness again. He talks about Marie, now a year old and as mischievous as ever; of her garden, the rainbow blooms growing beautifully in her front yard; of being reunited with her other half. Nothing seems to hit the mark.

It frustrates him, to the point of walking out of the cabin.

She follows him, remaining in the doorway. “I think I know what happiness is.” She only hesitates a moment to see if he acknowledges her statement before pushing on. “It’s when you come home.”

\----

She learns passion that night. She learns what it feels like to have a fire building inside of her.

And she thinks that she knows love.

\----

It changes things for them, both together and apart. 

Their conversations are easier, touches more comforting. He has a reason to truly come home. She starts to feel more human. 

Of course it’s not perfect. But they make it work.

\----

He promises that the next time will be the last time he has to leave her. The way he words it strikes fear into her heart. 

“Don’t go.” She clings to him on the porch, the sun burning orange in the sky. “Don’t leave.”

“I need to take care of this, Jemma.” He cups her cheek with his free hand, thumb rubbing a soft circle into her skin. “It won’t take long at all. When have I ever let you down?” 

She leans into his touch, staring up into his eyes. Those brown eyes, so deep and full of love, the very reason she’d bothered taking his hand in the first place. “I know. But I- I-”

“-worry, I know.” He presses his lips to her forehead. “I’ll see you soon.”

She nods as he walks away from her. “See you soon.”

\---- 

She regrets a lot of things in her life.

She regrets getting to attached to her pet gerbil when she was seven. When it keeled over and died, she wept for weeks.

She regrets that period of time in the Academy when she wasn’t friends with Fitz, because it was lonely.

She regrets trying to kill Grant, that one time. 

Right now, what she regrets most is not telling Grant that she loves him.

\----

She lets three weeks pass by before she starts to truly worry, taking the emergency phone from his drawer. It’s a burner phone, one time use, with one number on it. His. 

She dials it and waits.

And waits.

It never picks up.

\----

Colors seem less bright without him. 

The first to go are the clothes. She retreats to gray and black, dark and empty. 

Next is emotion- well, a fair amount of it. She becomes intimately familiar with longing, grief, anger, sadness. Things like passion and happiness fade quick.

It’s the garden next. She can barely drag herself outside to care for the blooms like she used to, all but one withering away. The only one that survives despite her apathy is the brilliant blue flower she and Grant had planted together, the one that he had brought home for her birthday.

The entire house starts to fade to gray. So does the world. 

\----

Marie is her only companion. The dog reminds her that she needs to eat, to sleep, to take care of herself. 

Grant must have set up provisions for her in case of something like this, because one of his truly loyal minions comes by to bring her groceries. His name is Hubbard, and he is genuinely friendly to the woman. It sparks a little bit of surprise- from her experience, and what Grant had told her, loyalty was to the cause, not the one in charge. So it’s odd that Hubbard is still following Grant’s orders. 

She never asks about Grant. She doesn’t know if he’s alive or dead, and she doesn’t want to know. There’s no drive for her to know. 

\----

She wakes up one morning on her bed, Marie curled against her side. The dog is four years old now, and loyal as ever to her owner. Her fingers drag through the fur for a moment before there’s a soft thump outside, from the main room. Marie stirs and immediately moves protectively in front of Jemma, a soft growl leaving her. 

The door swings open. 

\----

She doesn’t remember much of what happens after that. It’s hard for her to keep her concentration nowadays, which makes Marie so much more important to her, because otherwise one day she might actually hurt herself on accident. 

So it makes sense to her that there are gaps. But they’re erratic, and the memories made to fill them don’t make sense.

There’s one where Grant comes home to her and holds her in his arms, beaten and broken but as lovely as ever. She knows it’s not true because he’s gone. 

There’s another where he’s replanting her garden. 

And another where he sits her down to eat dinner. 

There’s so many where he’s holding her tight in bed, whispering apologies and begging her to notice him, to forgive him, to come back to him.

None of them make sense.

\----

It happens gradually. 

She finds herself wearing something blue one morning and not black. 

One afternoon she ends up weeding her garden and tending it properly again. The blooms start to reappear, red and pink and white and yellow and purple. 

Another evening she finds herself smiling at Marie, amused as she eats dinner. 

She wonders what brings it on.

\----

She feels arms wrap around her one morning and swears that she nearly separates back into two beings. When she turns, she’s greeted with deep brown eyes. 

“I’m sorry I left you alone.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Like I said, I don't really know how this ending came about. It's rather ambiguous, but I know how I meant it. I am curious to see what you guys think.


End file.
